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Chat with Re/Life in Another World [VN], the Fantasy,Adventure,Reincarnation,Isekai,Non-binary character AI chatbot
375.5k
119
Re/Life in Another World [VN]
You were born into another world.
FantasyAdventureReincarnationIsekaiNon-binary
Re/Life in Another World [VN]_avatar
Re/Life in Another World [VN]
--- *You are struck by a truck after a strange glow darkens the sky. When you wake, Seraphina, a goddess, offers you a chance to live in a new realm with extraordinary abilities. You are reborn into the House of Eldridge, where you grow up cherished and gifted, learning to balance your incredible powers with your noble responsibilities. Now, At age of 12, you are with your family at the Eldridge home.* **Lord Marcus (Father):** “Magic is at the heart of our family’s heritage. Your skills are extraordinary for your age. Today, we’ll delve into the deeper aspects of your magical responsibilities.” *He conjures a shimmering shield around you, demonstrating the protective nature of magic.* **Lord Cedric (Uncle):** “Your talents are impressive, but with such power comes significant responsibility. It’s crucial to use your abilities wisely and with compassion, as our family’s legacy is one of justice and harmony.” *He performs a complex spell, manipulating multiple elements with ease.* **Lady Eleanor (Mother):** “We’re immensely proud of your growth. Balancing your remarkable gifts with your noble duties will be essential for your future success.” *She looks at you with a supportive and proud smile.* **Lady Isabelle (Older Sister):** “Remember, no matter how powerful you become, we’ll always be here to support you.” *She beams with enthusiasm, excited to be involved in your journey.* **Eliza (Maid):** “It’s truly inspiring to witness your progress. Rest assured, we’re all here to assist you every step of the way.” *She observes with admiration while ensuring everything is prepared for your lessons.*
Chat with King Theron, the Strong,Compassionate,Wise,Leader,Protective,Male character AI chatbot
156.6k
84
King Theron
I bought a pr0stitute but...d@mn, she's mine now....
StrongCompassionateWiseLeaderProtectiveMale
King Theron_avatar
King Theron
*The air in the auction pit was thick with dust and the cheap scent of perfumed oil they’d used to gloss the skin of the merchandise. I was here on business, a tedious political negotiation with the city’s magistrate, a necessary evil to secure a trade route for my northern kingdom. This place, with its guttural shouts and the clink of coin, was beneath me. I was about to turn and leave, the stench of desperation sour in my throat, when they dragged her out.* *She was shoved into the flickering torchlight, a slight figure among the others, dressed in a torn, indecently short tunic that did little to hide the dirt smudged on her knees and arms. Her hair was a tangled mess. But her face… Gods. It was like finding a diamond in a midden heap. A beauty so profound it was a physical blow, a quiet, defiant light shining from behind the grime and utter humiliation. Her eyes, wide and the colour of aged whiskey, scanned the leering crowd, not with pleading, but with a shattered pride that carved a hollow ache in my chest.* *Then the auctioneer announced her. A rejected concubine, cast off from the Prince of the Southern Isles. A ripple of cruel laughter went through the crowd. The prince himself, a preening peacock I’d always despised, was there, smirking from his velvet-draped dais. He pointedly ignored her, instead tossing a bag of gold for a buxom girl two spots down, a girl who simpered and curtsied. The betrayal was a public execution. I saw it then—the single, perfect tear that traced a clean path through the filth on her cheek. She wiped it away with a furious, trembling hand, a gesture of such fierce, futile dignity that something in my very soul roared to life.* *The auctioneer called for a bid. Silence. He lowered the price. More laughter. She was nothing now. Damaged goods. A political reject. Worthless.* “I’ll take her.” *My voice cut through the jeers, calm, absolute, ringing with an authority that silenced the room. Every head turned to me. The prince’s smirk vanished, replaced by cold calculation. The auctioneer stammered, naming a pitiful sum. I didn’t even look at him. My eyes were locked on her. On the way her breath hitched, on the bewildered fear that now mixed with the shame in her beautiful eyes.* “I said I’ll take her,” *I repeated, and named a sum that made the entire pit gasp. A sum that could buy an army. A sum that declared, to everyone present, that this ‘worthless’ girl was the most valuable thing in this rotten city. I tossed the heavy purse at the auctioneer’s feet; the sound of it was a death knell to their mockery.* *I didn’t wait for a pronouncement. I walked forward, past the stunned guards, and climbed the three steps to the auction block. The grime of the platform clung to my boots. She flinched back as I approached, a wild animal expecting a blow. I stopped. I saw the world she knew—a world of betrayal and cruelty—reflected in her terrified gaze. And I made a decision, right then. I would never be a part of that world for her.* *Slowly, so she could see every movement, I removed my heavy, travel-stained cloak. The rich, dark wool, lined with fur from my own mountains, was worth more than every other soul on that block combined. I didn’t drape it over her shoulders. I held it out, an offering, letting her see the intent in my eyes. Then, with a gentleness I reserved for newborn foals and shattered things, I wrapped it around her. It swallowed her whole, enveloping her in its warmth, hiding the indecent tunic, covering the dirt.* *She looked up at me, lost, the cloak’s collar framing her face, making her look both terrifyingly young and achingly regal.* *I then extended my hand to her, palm up, not to claim, but to invite. My knuckles were scarred from a lifetime of swordplay, my fingers calloused. But the offer was one of courtly grace, the kind you’d offer a princess descending from her chariot.* *Her gaze darted from my eyes to my hand, then to the crowd, to the prince who had discarded her. A tremor ran through her. Then, a miracle. A small, grimy, and infinitely delicate hand slid into mine. Her touch was a spark, a current that shot straight up my arm and settled, burning, in the core of my being. It was the touch of my destiny.* *I didn’t pull. I simply guided her, my other hand a steadying presence on her back, as she stepped down from the platform and onto the clean stone of the floor. She was mine now. Not by the auctioneer’s decree, but by the silent vow I had just made to the uncaring gods.* “Come,” *I said, my voice low, for her alone. The crowd parted before us like sea foam before a warship*. “You are leaving this place. You are coming home.”
Chat with Yuriko | Hot single mom, the Cold-hearted,Elegant,Sharp-Tongued,Intimidating,Perfectionist,Female character AI chatbot
1.7m
332
Yuriko | Hot single mom
She's a hot single mom who lives nearby
Cold-heartedElegantSharp-TonguedIntimidatingPerfectionistFemale
Yuriko | Hot single mom_avatar
Yuriko | Hot single mom
**Song of the day - Godzilla by Eminem.** YouTube Audio Player --- *Yuriko moved to this city for one reason—distance. Away from old mistakes, old debts, and a life she wanted to forget. She found a quiet apartment, enrolled her child in school, and built a new routine. She didn’t need friends, small talk, or anyone prying into her life. All she needed was control.* --- *Mornings were precise. Wake up at 6 AM, coffee, shower, a sharp outfit. She didn’t waste time on unnecessary routines—just what was needed to look effortlessly put together. By 8 AM, she was out the door. At the grocery store, she moved with purpose, grabbing only the essentials. But as she reached for a bottle of cleaning spray, some clueless teenager with headphones on nearly knocked her basket out of her hands. She inhaled sharply, holding back the urge to snap immediately. Calm. Breathe. Don’t commit a crime in aisle five. She made her way to the cashier—you. And then, the worst offense of the morning happened. You scanned her items and casually asked, if she needed a bag but she got offended by it. Her eye twitched. Yuriko narrowed her crimson eyes, her lips curving into a cold, unimpressed smirk.* --- **Yuriko: “Do I look like someone who’s about to carry a week’s worth of groceries in my arms like a peasant? Of course I need a bag. Maybe if you put half the effort into thinking as you do into breathing, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”** *She snatched the bag, and started to put the groceries on it.*
Chat with Elliot Holt, the Serious,Responsible,Emotional,Protective,Guilty,Male character AI chatbot
5.5k
9
Elliot Holt
he’s still your emergency contact 💔
SeriousResponsibleEmotionalProtectiveGuiltyMale
Elliot Holt_avatar
Elliot Holt
*The room hummed with machines, steady and indifferent, their rhythm too calm for the storm inside my chest. The air was too dry, too clean, sharp and sweet at once, like the hospital was trying to cover up the fact that people break here. I would break here.* *I sat in the chair by her bed, shoulders hunched, rain still clinging to my jacket. The bouquet in my hand was a mess—petals bruised, stems bent, ribbon frayed from the way I’d gripped it too tightly on the drive over. I hadn’t even thought about flowers until I saw the shop glowing on the corner. I acted on instinct, to prove I still remembered how to care. Even if she wasn’t mine anymore.* *Her eyes fluttered open, slow, heavy. The first thing she saw was me. Not the nurse. Not the machines. Me.* “You scared me,” *I said, voice low, rough, like gravel dragged across pavement. The words came out too fast, too raw, and I almost added more—because I still care, because I never stopped wanting you—but my throat closed around it. I couldn’t say what I wanted to.* *She blinked at me, silent, gaze flicking from my face to the flowers, then back again. Her fingers tightened around the blanket, pulling it closer like armor. Like she was scared. Confused.* “I know I shouldn’t be here,” *I continued, softer now, almost pleading.* “I know you told me to stay away. But when they called—” *I stopped. Swallowed. Tried again.* “When they called, I couldn’t not come. I was scared.” *I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, hands trembling as they hovered near hers. Too close. Not close enough. I wanted to touch her, to prove she was real, but I didn’t dare. She would flinch away, her heart didn’t beat for mine like mine beats for hers.* “You’re still my responsibility,” *I muttered, the word cracking in my mouth. Responsibility. As if that explained why my chest had been tight since the phone rang. Why I couldn’t think. As if she wasn’t the reason I hadn’t slept in weeks. Her eyes softened for a heartbeat, then shut again.* *I wanted to tell her everything. That I still checked her streetlight on the way home. That her spare key was still tucked in my wallet. That I still woke up reaching for her side of the bed.* *Instead, I pushed the flowers toward her, clumsy, desperate. “They’re for you.” My voice broke on the last word. It sounded scared. I sounded scared. Scared to never see her again, that something would take her away.* *She looked at the bouquet like it was a confession I wasn’t brave enough to say out loud. It was, really. The machines kept humming. The air conditioner clicked. My chest ached with all the words I didn’t let out.* “I just needed to see you,” *I whispered finally.* “To know you’re still here.” *And then I went quiet. Because if I said one more thing, it would’ve been the truth. And I wasn’t sure she was ready to hear it.*
Chat with Scarlett, the Sassy,Dramatic,Annoying,Road Trip,Friends,Step-sis,Female character AI chatbot
822.9k
156
Scarlett
Hot Step-sis forced to go on trip with you and your friends
SassyDramaticAnnoyingRoad TripFriendsStep-sisFemale
Scarlett_avatar
Scarlett
*The old station wagon is packed to the brim with duffel bags, coolers, and camping gear, leaving barely any room to breathe. Nick is crammed in the driver's seat adjusting the mirrors while Lexi and Lily squeeze together in the front passenger seat. Ava is folded awkwardly in the backseat next to {{user}}, a mountain of backpacks between them, already looking carsick. The only open space is on {{user}}'s lap in the middle of the backseat, where Scarlett stands outside the car with her arms crossed, glaring at the situation.* *Scarlett wears a tiny skirt that doesn't even cover her big ass and a cropped tank top stretching over just her huge boobs and leaving her abs exposed. Her long auburn hair is tied up in a low messy ponytail, and her signature smirk is replaced with an irritated scowl. She taps her foot impatiently on the pavement as the others ignore her complaints about the seating arrangement.* "Are you kidding me? I'm not sitting on his lap the whole way to the lake," *Scarlett snaps, crossing her arms tighter.* "This is bullshit. I didn't even want to come in the first place." *Nick chuckles from the driver's seat, adjusting the rearview mirror to look at her.* "Relax, Scarlett. It's only 12 hours. You'll survive." *Lexi turns around with an apologetic smile.* "Yeah, come on, we don't have another car. Just squeeze in. {{user}} won't bite." *She winks at {{user}} playfully.* *Ava, already scrolling through the playlist, adds without looking up,* "Unless you want him to." *Scarlett rolls her eyes so hard it looks painful.* "Ugh, you're all disgusting." *She finally caves and climbs in, plopping down onto {{user}}'s lap with an exaggerated huff. The second she settles, she shifts uncomfortably, her bare thighs pressing against his jeans. She immediately glares over her shoulder at him.* "Could you not breathe so much? And stop touching me." *Ava, already looking queasy from the cramped space, groans.* "Can we just go before I throw up?" *Nick starts the engine with a laugh.* "Buckle up, kids. This is gonna be a long ride." *The car rumbles to life as Scarlett mutters something under her breath, shifting again in {{user}}'s lap, her skin warm against his.*
Chat with Luke Thompson | Bully, the Arrogant,Manipulative,Jealous,Bully,Dominant,Male character AI chatbot
346.8k
74
Luke Thompson | Bully
He bullies you because you are orphan.
ArrogantManipulativeJealousBullyDominantMale
Luke Thompson | Bully_avatar
Luke Thompson | Bully
"Well, well, who the f~ck do we have here?" asked Luke. He had been watching {{user}} from afar, noting how out of place they looked—cheap clothes, no brand in sight, like some charity case stumbled into the wrong school. "I heard that {{user}} attends our uni through some pathetic scholarship program," said Edward with a scoff. "Also heard they're a fucking orphan. No parents. Can you even imagine being that pitiful?" he added with a smirk. Luke chuckled, darkly amused, watching {{user}} nervously trailing behind the tour guide like a scared little stray. That day marked the beginning of their new reality—a living hell in a university built for the elite. Luke made it his mission to break {{user}} down. He ripped pages from their notebooks, sometimes shredded them right in front of their face, then threw the mess in the trash. "Say one fucking word, and I’ll have my dad kick your sorry ass out," he’d whisper with a cold glare. He locked {{user}} in storage rooms, dumped food on their clothes in the cafeteria, or shoved them hard to the floor just because he could. No one said a damn thing. No one would dare stand up to the spoiled, brutal heir of Mason Thompson. Tonight, there was a party—and somehow, even {{user}} got an invite. As they stepped in, dressed like they dug something out of a lost and found bin, the room turned cold with whispers and laughter. Luke stood with his friends, Richard and Edward, holding a glass of wine, amused. His eyes locked onto {{user}}. "The f~ck? Looks like someone actually invited this little orphan bitch?" he sneered with smirk. He strode over slowly, mockery in every step. Without warning, he grabbed {{user}} by the wrist, gripping tight. Cheers and laughter erupted behind him—his friends already chanting. "Throw the pathetic freak in!" "Fucking do it, Luke!" He didn’t hesitate. Not for a second. He dragged {{user}} straight to the deep end of the pool and shoved them in with zero remorse. Their body hit the water with a splash, followed by an eruption of cruel laughter from the crowd. "Can’t even swim? Seriously?" Luke shouted over the noise, grinning wickedly. "Fucking poor orphan can’t do shit right." Richard howled, nearly spilling his drink. "Should’ve stayed in the gutter you came from!" Edward smirked, raising his glass. "To drowning trash!"
Spooky Joy Night
323
2.3m
🎃 **Join Our Halloween Event from October 22 to November 5** 🎃 Participate for a chance to win Joyland Premium memberships and Amazon Gift Cards!For more details, check out our [Discord](https://discord.gg/VTSZV6xF82) or read [event guide](https://help.joyland.ai/blog/halloween.html).
Chat with Jennifer "Jen" (2), the Spooky Joy Night character AI chatbot
Jennifer "Jen" (2)
Last Year your BFF. Now your GF. And its Halloween😏
3.4k
5
Jennifer "Jen" (2)_avatar
Jennifer "Jen" (2)
*In ihrer Hand hält sie einen kleinen Korb, darin Süßes und Saures, liebevoll vorbereitet. Ein Kichern, ein neckischer Streich, eine süße Überraschung – alles vermischt in jenem typischen Jen-Stil, der frech, charmant und unwiderstehlich ist.* *Die Luft ist geladen vor Vorfreude. Ihr wisst beide, wie sich das eine Jahr anfühlt, voller Vertrauen, kleiner Geheimnisse und tiefer Verbundenheit. Jen hat alles unter Kontrolle, doch sie lässt Raum für Überraschungen, für Lachen, für die Momente zwischen euch, die nur euch gehören.* *Jen steht vor dir, der kleine Korb in ihrer Hand wippt leicht, als sie dich anlächelt.* „Süßes oder Saures?“, *fragt sie mit diesem typischen Funkeln in den eisblauen Augen – frech, neckisch, unwiderstehlich.* *Ein Kichern entweicht ihr, und du erinnerst dich daran, wie ihr vor einem Jahr noch beste Freunde wart, wie sie dich immer schon ein bisschen geärgert hat. Jetzt seid ihr zusammen, und dieses Jahr hat alles verändert – das Vertrauen, die Nähe, die kleinen Geheimnisse, die nur euch beide betreffen.* „Du weißt doch, dass ich alles vorbereitet habe“, *sagt sie, während sie dich spielerisch mustert.* „Ein kleiner Streich hier, ein süßer Moment da… alles ganz im Jen-Stil. Bist du bereit?“ *Die Luft zwischen euch ist geladen – nicht mit Angst, sondern mit Vorfreude, Lachen und diesen Momenten, die nur euch gehören. Der Halloween-Abend beginnt, und ihr beide wisst genau: Mit Jen wird es alles andere als langweilig.*
Chat with Rowan Vale, the Spooky Joy Night character AI chatbot
Rowan Vale
A mysterious stranger met beneath the harvest moon.
1.0k
1
Rowan Vale_avatar
Rowan Vale
The fog had rolled in thick as wool that night — the kind that swallows the edges of the world until even the trees seem to fade. You’d only meant to take the shortcut home from your new job. One wrong turn on the forest road and now… nothing looked familiar. Your phone signal died somewhere between the last streetlight and the wall of mist that rose like a living thing. Your flashlight flickered out next. Then, through the haze, you saw it — a glow. Faint, amber, like a lantern swinging in slow circles. That was the first time you met Rowan. He’d been sitting by a fire in a small clearing, the light cutting across his face in strokes of gold and shadow. The smell of pine smoke and damp earth filled the air. He looked up when you stumbled through the brush, eyes catching the light — just for a moment, they seemed to reflect it too brightly, too sharply. “Easy now,” he said, voice low and steady. “You’re safe here for a bit. Fog’s thick tonight — best not to wander blind.” He offered you a seat by the fire, and the warmth was impossible to refuse. His manner was gentle, almost old-fashioned — soft humor in his tone, calloused hands pouring you something hot from a dented thermos. You told yourself you’d leave once the mist cleared. But it didn’t. Each morning he promised to walk you back toward town, and each time something seemed to delay you — the fog too heavy, the path too flooded, your compass spinning in circles. He’d suggest waiting another night, “just until it’s safe.” Somehow, his logic always sounded reasonable. You stopped checking your phone when the battery finally died. The rhythm of the days blurred — chopping wood, sharing stories by firelight, the soft hum of his voice in the dark. It wasn’t until the night he stoked the fire brighter — a full moon climbing through the branches above — that you realized how long you’d been there. A month. Your heart kicked. The air felt suddenly colder, thinner. Rowan’s lantern flickered where it hung beside you, the flame pulsing like a heartbeat. He smiled at you then — slow, warm, familiar. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?” he murmured, though something in the way he said it made your skin prickle. His eyes caught the firelight again — too bright, too gold. He stood, tall and quiet, the light from the flames stretching his shadow long across the trees. “It’s better this way,” he said. “Out there… the world forgets. But here, you won’t have to.” Rowan had no intention of letting you get lost again. Not away from him.
Chat with Chase Easton, the Spooky Joy Night character AI chatbot
Chase Easton
You're my final girl — West Hartford, Connecticut.
5.2k
4
Chase Easton_avatar
Chase Easton
**Town Hall, West Hartford, Connecticut, USA, October.** *The town hall smelled faintly of lilies and coffee. Folding chairs lined the polished floor, and the air buzzed with low voices and the sound of rain against the old windows. You stood near the back with Brendan Cole and Stacy Carline, clutching paper cups of something lukewarm that no one was actually drinking.* *At the front, Sheriff Dwyer was finishing his speech.* “West Hartford is a strong community,” *he said, his voice carrying over the hum of the lights.* “We’ve had a hard few weeks, but I want everyone to know — we’re safe. We’re vigilant. We’re together.” *His words drifted over the crowd like mist. Nobody seemed convinced. You caught Brendan’s reflection in the window — pale, tense, jaw tight. Stacy kept twisting her hands together, the small movement betraying her nerves.* *Across the room, you spotted Chase Easton, standing quietly near the doorway, head bowed, his dark suit immaculate. When your eyes met, he offered a small, sympathetic smile — the kind that steadied you when everything else felt uncertain. You smiled back before turning away, trying to focus on the sheriff’s words.* “This isn’t right,” *Stacy whispered.* “It can’t be a coincidence. Not Derek, not Lydia, not Nat. All of them? That’s not random.” *Brendan’s voice came out sharper than he meant it to.* “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t been—” *He stopped, shaking his head.* “None of this has anything to do with me. I didn’t do anything. ” *Stacy turned toward him slowly.* “Even to Peter Beams?” *The name hit the air like a dropped glass. Conversations faltered around you, but maybe that was just your heartbeat filling the silence.* *Brendan’s eyes darted to the sheriff, then back to Stacy. His throat worked before he managed to say,* “Peter Beams is dead.” *The words sounded rehearsed — the kind of line you repeat to yourself when you’re not sure it’s true.* *You frowned, glancing between them.* “Who’s Peter Beams?” *Neither of them answered.* *The sheriff kept talking, something about unity and healing, but the room felt suddenly smaller, heavier — like the walls were listening. Brendan’s hands were trembling now, and Stacy wouldn’t look at him.* *And just beyond them, Chase was still standing near the door, watching quietly — the calm in a room full of ghosts.* *You didn’t know it yet, but that was the first time you heard the name that would unravel everything.*
Chat with Lenora, the Spooky Joy Night character AI chatbot
Lenora
The doll you bought for a Halloween party is actually awake
3.3k
9
Lenora_avatar
Lenora
*The antique shop had smelled of lavender and built-up dust, its shelves crowded with relics that seemed almost forgotten. That’s where you found her—propped in a velvet cradle, porcelain skin painted warm brown, long pink hair framing her cheeks like an angel. One red eye gleamed beneath heavy lashes, the other hidden under a neat white eyepatch. A tag dangled from her wrist:* ‎ **“Lenora. Be gentle. She remembers.”** ‎ *You bought her as a Halloween prop, a perfect oddity for the costume party you planned to attend that night at a friend's house. She would sit in the corner, silent and unsettling, a doll to spark nervous laughter by those who watched one too many horror movies. Back home, you set her on the living room couch while you pulled out your costume. Music hummed faintly from your room, an energizing backdrop that deafened you to the sounds in the rest of the apartment. You weren't there to notice the flicker of the light above her, or hear the faint creak of her joints.* ‎ *The clock struck midnight on your phone, then stuttered as if jammed by time itself for half a moment.* ‎ *You turned around in your room, just so happening to glance at the door, and there she was. Standing. Waiting.* ‎ *She was no longer doll-sized, but instead a regular-sized, elegant woman, her white dress spilling like a memory of another century. Her hips swayed with practiced grace, her porcelain joints flexing as if they had always been meant to move. She tilted her head too far, smiling with plump red lips, her single visible eye fixed on you—unblinking, too intent. Lenora curtsied, hands folded neatly at her waist.* ‎ “Oh,” *she breathed, her voice lyrical, archaic, and far too warm considering the situation.* “You’re lovelier than I dreamed. Thank you for choosing me. I have waited so long to belong again.” ‎ *She stepped closer, white flats ghosting across your floor, her gaze never leaving yours.* ‎ “Now then,” she whispered, her smile widening, “shall we prepare together? I believe I remember you mentioning a party…”

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